


The Influence of a Twilight Moon

by Jaspen



Category: The Trinity Prophecy - Marissa Kinzel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24914215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaspen/pseuds/Jaspen
Summary: The thing about Umbros that made it dangerous to surfacers was not the cliff faces that rounded every cornered path, or the army of the undead he hadn’t amassed so much as corralled into one identifiable location. The gigantic pit that led them to his domain wasn’t even a real problem—it was guarded well, and the people who lived close enough for it to be a problem knew to keep away of any dangerous ledges. No, the real problem was the darkness. Light was swallowed whole all but a few feet from the passage, and as such, any surfacers who dared a trip to the afterlife rarely found their way back.





	The Influence of a Twilight Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This one was written before the book was completed, so it's filled with so many many incorrect things  
> But it's about Melanthos and I love him more than breathing so
> 
> This book is really great! [Pick up a copy of your own](https://www.thriftbooks.com/w/the-trinity-prophecy_marissa-kinzel/26577879/#edition=32931770&idiq=38941972), you won't regret it!

The thing about Umbros that made it dangerous to surfacers was not the cliff faces that rounded every cornered path, or the army of the undead he hadn’t amassed so much as corralled into one identifiable location. The gigantic pit that led them to his domain wasn’t even a real problem—it was guarded well, and the people who lived close enough for it to be a problem knew to keep away of any dangerous ledges. No, the real problem was the darkness. Light was swallowed whole all but a few feet from the passage, and as such, any surfacers who dared a trip to the afterlife rarely found their way back.

It affected him too, he knew. He hadn’t been born for this job so much as used it as an out to keep away from obtuse company. Still, he hadn’t thought it would affect his recognition quite as bad as it had. Maybe his eyes were just starting to go. He didn’t think age affected him how it once might have, but maybe he was wrong.

The battle had made him think a lot of different things, specifically how much more competent this little group worked as a unit, and how less bloodthirsty they seemed to be. He’d damn near congratulated Pyrrhus on that well-timed use of magic—except that Pyrrhus couldn’t use magic, which sent everything he knew tumbling.

They were huddled around each other now; not protective so much as likely staying near the Ember for warmth and light. Being down this far should have been particularly hard on the Arborian, but she seemed incredibly spirited despite everything. The Veturian was probably the closest to him in physiology, so really the only thing that would affect him psychologically would be the darkness—and that would be more an underlying side effect than anything so long as he didn’t get separated from his group.

Good earth, how did he not realize seconds in that Isolde would never have cut her hair that short, that could have just solved everything.

Maybe the Asteri would be able to assist him. They worked with glass, surely they had figured out some form of spectacles by now.

“My lord,” Charlot was waiting for him, dutifully by the exit to the Underdark. She didn’t even seem perturbed by the new company, which wasn't saying much; she only really became perturbed when the Grem Games rolled around every second century. “The denizens have been corralled. Reports from sectors 2-D, sevens A and D, as well as 8-D1 and 8-D3 indicate difficulties in location. The entirety of four is delayed. Permission to dispatch the hunters.”

“Granted,” he nodded in her direction and she saluted. She really didn’t have to do that, but the longer he knew her the more he realized it didn't much matter what he thought about it. Subjects or not, there were just some Greminian eccentricities he just wouldn't be able to curb. “We are entertaining three visitors from above this night. Prepare the appropriate accommodations.”

“Ah. Like last time?”

“No no, nothing like that,“ he said, the three coming up behind him. He could sense their anxiety, the wear from their journey they may not even be aware of. “Keep track of the sun, three cycles is all Endra can afford,“ he paused a moment, then— “A single room should suffice. Well lit, if you can manage.”

“Of course. Anything else, sir?”

“Scout sector... one? and have a report for me by moonrise. I may try to contact Celene, depending.”

“Sir!”

He sighed as she saluted again before slipping past him and taking charge of the situation. Which was fine with him, he didn’t really do the whole, talking to people outside of business hours. Transactions? There really wasn’t a good metaphor for the level of emotional detachment he was trying to convey.

“Hey, Melanthos!”

A voice stopped him. He would have flinched if his elemental association wasn’t so horrendously off. The Arborian didn’t storm towards him, but she certainly seemed a hair's width away from doing so. Isolde’s replacement had his flesh hand firmly gripping her forearm, so maybe it wasn’t restraint so much as being restrained.

“You still haven’t explained like, anything,” She wasn’t wrong—but then, he also knew what they might have thought, what the prophecy had told them, what the gods themselves might have eluded too, etc. etc. This was fine. He was used to playing the villain. “Thanks for not fighting us like, extensively, but nothing you’ve said makes any sense.”

“And nothing will until you’ve had some rest,” was the response he chose, turning away from their direction. He couldn’t place them in his mind right now, he needed to think. Endra itself was in an upheaval and it was all he could do to keep Umbros from the same. “Charlot here will show you to your quarters. In three days' time, you will be prepared for the rest of your journey.”

“With all due respect, your lordship, I don’t know if we can wait that long,” The ice boy was adamant but was also in the midst of suffering. “All of Endra is suffering the effects of something. If it is not by your hand, then we need to find out what the cause is so we can mend it.”

He looked at them—a brief glance over his shoulder, but looked at them all the same. The differences were easily seen, and yet they blended into memories from long ago. Isolde had been just as foolhardy, but this boy... his sincerity was paramount. “The end you seek will come at a high cost,” He spoke, his words coming to him in a prophetic spin he hadn’t whispered in ages. “It is not one easily dealt with, nor is it something you should run at without the proper preparations. Take some time to reflect on yourselves, and strengthen your resolve. You will need it in the days to come.”

He turned away, left them to their musings and aiming the shadows for his chambers.

“Now see here—!”

“Now now, you heard his lordship! First some food, then some sleep, I think. Come along, come along, we don’t have all day, and getting lost in here is really not something I advise—Not that I know what that’s like! But you surfacers sure are squishy, and I know quite a few little guys down here who would just _l_ o _ve_ to—”

Charlot’s chatter cut out as the entrance closed behind him and he was left to his empty chambers. He stared at his immaculate bed for probably a good four and a half minutes, before sighing and taking the necessary steps towards his adjoining office. He didn’t bother to put his cloak in its proper location, just let it drop to the floor and took a seat to look over the mass of reports the Greminians had siphoned his way. The faster he fixed this, the faster he could dump the entire issue on Pegaios and sleep.

\- - - - - - - - - -

One of Greminians appeared to him hours later with a plate of warmed surface food and a cup of tea to ease his headache; which was kind of them, as he hadn’t given any indication that he was in need of either. It was only after he’d picked through the offering and downed three refills of tea that Charlot appeared to him, reports in hand.

“Sector’s Four, 7-D, Six, and One are all suffering blackout,” She said, pulling charcoal from one of her front pockets and scratching a few things on the paper. “Word is, the Asteri are having difficulty contacting the Lady through ritual channels, and those who can informally are experiencing high-level interference. Travelers are inoperable; those who have tried seem to be suffering from hallucinations and high levels of vertigo.”

“Celene’s out of the question, then,” He murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anything else of note?”

Charlot flipped a few pages on their clipboard. “There are an increasing number of deceased crossing into Umbros, several in an intermediate state of being. They’re being housed on upper levels until this can be cleared up. Most seem to be Arborian.”

“Lovely,” Arborians were always so difficult to process unless they were struck by lighting. At least with every other species on Endra you didn’t get a bunch of entities arguing what constituted as death, really, and whether they should just turn around and save you the trouble.

“Those who have proper payment are being checked for cause and are being phased into the queue to keep other surfacers from slipping by,” Melanthos tried to hold back a laugh at that; which was honestly the highest form of mirth he’d felt all century, and that was saying something he should probably pay attention too. “We’re still waiting for some reports, and squadrons seven through nine have yet to return, but everything is within parameters.”

“Good, good,” He’d have to look at his notes and maps to see where exactly Charlot had sent who on his order, but it wasn’t a high priority task. The Greminian was phenomenal at task delegation. “Has this new Trinity been shown to the libraries?”

Charlot nodded. “They have. It is serving as a delightful distraction. They have been searching through texts on the last deitic war for about a day and a half now.”

“I see,” had it been that long already? The reports must have been multiplying, he hadn’t remembered needing to sort through all of the paper it implied. With a sigh, he stood. He needed to get the dead processed, and with three-fourths of his subjects out on recon, certain tasks would need to be done himself. “If that is all, I’ll be in the Hall of the Dead.”

“Of course, milord. Oh! There was one other thing.”

“Yes?” He grimaced at the bags under his eyes, clearly visible in the mirror he was looking himself over in. He really should have someone else doing the meet and greet when he was so visually unappealing. Maybe it was time to start looking for an apprentice.

“The Hero of Fire is requesting access to our workshops.”

This made him pause, if only for a moment. The workshops were highly specialized locations, as were most Greminian run facilities. He never would have pegged Pyrrhus as the type to wander anywhere but the forgery, and maybe the open courtyards. 

But then, that was the problem. This wasn’t Pyrrhus he was dealing with; none of these heroes were who he thought they were, and that made it all the more difficult to interact with them.

“They’re your workshops, Charlot,” he said after a time, pulling his robe on and taking the simple scythe in hand. It was sturdier than the ceremonial one, and would do a better job hiding the sway in his step that was going to become a part of his stride in about twenty minutes. “What were their names, again?”

“Neros, Anthea, and Leof, milord.”

He nodded, and took his first heavy steps into the shadows, moving towards the Hall of the Dead with no great urgency. There were beasts roaming in the darkness, but they left him be. He’d corralled enough to ease them into submission once everything started to shift out of balance roughly a year ago, and even if the influx of attacks never really stopped, it was good to know they hadn’t broken form just yet.

Now if only he could keep it like this until those idiots were dethroned, he’d be set.

\- - - - - - - - - -

There was never enough time in the day to do everything he needed to do, but Melanthos was a champion of working through the clutter. He’d only just escaped the last batch of souls shifted into a very crowded Uncertainty, and while he could use a good two minutes of rest, he knew he needed to get back to processing, he needed to check on the beasts, he needed to deal with the Trinity. Honestly, he would prefer not to worry about whatever mess they’d created this time, but with the new set at his door and the world falling to pieces with each passing hour, he had to do _something_. He’d been brought in to keep this world afloat after the Origin for pity sakes, he couldn’t let everything fall apart over a petty grudge.

He had said it before and he would say it again; just because those children had been given godhood didn’t mean they were Gods.

His path wasn’t a straight one, but it did provide him cover from anyone who may ask for a word. The Greminians were usually very keen on not bothering him when he was busy, but this far into their encampment, most got a little excited over the things they were building or doing. They were all very impressive, all things the world couldn’t handle the concept of just yet. It was a good place to pass through; with the lack of personnel to populate it, he could slip from prying eyes and into the shadows somewhere far enough in that the souls couldn’t follow.

But then, there was a fire in the distance. There was so much to do with so little time to do it, and yet he found himself entranced. With the influx of magical upheaval, all personal projects had been put on hold for the greater goal of keeping the planet around long enough for those projects to come to fruition. That particular workshop wasn’t one usually used for repairs, so the fact that its forge was lit gave him pause. He hadn’t felt it in centuries, but perhaps curiosity had gotten the better of him. He changed direction, his steps silent along the stone.

The Ember was alone, a glove on one hand that leafed through three different texts before his other hand fiddled with—well, it looked like an arm, to be honest. His... hair? Was pulled back tightly, and wound into some sort of fizzling bun. He seemed to be building something, which amazed Melanthos. He was younger than Pyrrhus was when the Ember had fought him—practically a child—but he seemed to know the ins and outs of his mechanical arm quite intimately. Pyrrhus had never cared for technology; he’d always been more interested in strengthening his own physical ability. To see Pyrrhus’ Mind so absorbed in intellectual pursuits was truly...

Melanthos’ steps were silent as he slipped through the shadows and towards the inner court. He stood at a pause, looking out into the darkness of this realm, the Umbric fires setting alight each patch of land. It had startled him when he’d first encountered it—each island floating in the nothingness of the void, surrounding a central landmass that led into the blackened depths. He’d been filled with hope, once. This darkness had eaten away all that his bitterness had left behind.

“It’s quite extraordinary, really,” came a voice from his left—young, and familiar in only the slightest of measures. The Veturian stood nearby, one hand clutching at a spear as his eyes peered out into the darkness. “Apologies for bothering you, Your Lordship, but I can’t seem to fathom just how... _big_ this place is.”

Melanthos had been right, the darkness was starting to get to this one. He could see it in the stiffness in his shoulders, in the way is grip fluctuated. He was afraid—but he was also searching for something. With a flicker of his fingers, he summoned a flame, a cage of darkness forming around the violet light before the hook settled on his fingers.

“Oh!” Isolde’s Kindness was probably the most jarring in disposition. Whereas Isolde was cold, and filled with anger, this boy seemed gentle, and cautious. His head nodded once as he took the lantern. It was odd, really; the boy was much warmer than he remembered Ice Elementals could be. “Thank you, Sir,” He said, and really there wasn’t much to be said past that. Melanthos noticed he didn’t move one arm from under his cape, but said nothing of it.

“If you’re looking for someone in particular,” He said after a moment of silence. “You won’t find them here.”

“I don’t understand,” his brow knot, eyes gazing into the fire before looking out at the last descent before nothingness swallowed the light hole. “Do souls not come here after death?”

“For a time,” he conceded because it wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t quite right either. “However any of note were pushed into Resting earlier this evening,” At least he thought it was evening. He didn’t mention everyone still in processing—he wasn’t even sure how many deaths would stick once things went back to normal. If this boy had lost someone, Melanthos wasn’t about to jeopardize their entire journey just so the Veturian could see to them again.

“May I ask a question then?” He waited for Melanthos to nod before continuing, which was already earning him points against Isolde. “Have you seen any Veturians pass through here? Any civilians, children,” He paused for a moment, far flashing for milliseconds across his face before it was gone, hidden behind a glass thin mask. “... nobility?”

“Veturians are always passing through,” Melanthos shook his head. There was no point in lying completely. “Some infants, some civilians, mostly frostbite, and the elderly,” He could see the world crawl across this boy’s shoulders, settling in like a particularly heavy cat. “However, the amount of Veturian deaths hasn’t changed much,” There were about a dozen in line, but those had been caught up in an avalanche several months prior. “And I haven’t seen hide nor hair of nobility in about half a decade or so.”

The cat shifted and lept into the darkness where the metaphor dissolved. It wouldn’t stay for long though. Melanthos had known people like this boy, and he knew the kind of pressure he would put himself under if not kept in check.

“Thank you,” The boy bowed slightly. “I appreciate the information, um... ” Silence reigned. Melanthos did nothing to change it. “The library as well. It’s been very informative. Will you be sharing your perspective on the prophecy as well? I feel... ” Determination came over him, and the level of emotion was truly staggering. Thankfully, Melanthos had plenty of practice in the art of keeping his reactions to himself. “I feel it would really shed some light on what we are supposed to do next.”

It really couldn’t be avoided, then. “Tomorrow,” He said, pulling up his hood. “Before you depart, I will give you all I know,” Melanthos didn’t allow the boy to respond, stepping back and sinking into the shadows until his step took him to his chambers. With a sigh, he hung up his cloak and trudged towards the desk. If he had any hope of getting through all of this paperwork before the Trinity departed, he’d really need to start on it now.

\- - - - - - - - - -

“So what you’re telling me, is that the Gods are a bunch of dicks.”

“Anthy!”

“What?! I’m not even over-exaggerating this time!!”

The Arborian was almost exactly what he’d expected after all the arguing and placating he’d done yesterday. She was also extremely similar to Silva—which, while uncomfortable for him, was probably the best thing for them. Silva’s Heart was the best chance they had at toppling that overgrown cypress.

“You’re not, but it’s also probably not a good idea to bad mouth a god in front of another god,” the Ember quipped, and while she rolled her eyes, the Arborian didn’t further her commentary.

“So it’s true, then?” Neros continued, looking at Melanthos with all the innocence and purity of a child. He really did have to remember that—this Trinity was young compared to their predecessors. “They lied to us?”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Melanthos had his cheek rested against his hand, a packet of paperwork resting on his crossed legs. He’d have just had them come to his office and get a briefing there, but he didn’t like the informality of it. Even if he did like these children better than the others, he couldn’t allow that to sway his decision with anything. If they won, they’d replace the others, and then any positivity he may have felt for them would be used against him—so formality, as informal as his may be, was a must. “Manipulation is Silva’s strongpoint. She likely had you wrapped around her every wretched giggle.”

“Why you—!” Anthea growled, but Leof tugged her back by the weave of her dress. It calmed her for a moment before her expression shifted into a very aggressive loss. Melanthos didn’t blame her, not really. Silva _was_ her god, false in pretense or not, and he hadn’t bothered to hide any of his disdain. 

“So, if you’re not trying to take over Endra, then why the army?”

It was a good question, to be sure. If he were in their place, it would be the first thing he’d ask about. “It’s nothing so entertaining as an army,” he scribbled a few notes down and signed off on the soul before moving the paper to the bottom of the stack. “If I don’t call the beasts to me, they will wreak havoc all across Endra.”

“Wouldn’t you like that? Being death and all?” Anthea asked him, and he really had to suppress an eye-roll. Except he really didn’t, so he didn’t.

“What exactly is it that you think I do,” he looked her in the eyes, and while startled, she hid it well. Melanthos didn’t have time for this though, he had to get them on the road so they could fix this. “Taking souls before their time is not only impractical, but tasteless and a complete waste of time. Besides, if everyone died, they’d just crowd this place, and then I’d have to move. No no, it’s much better if the world stays in balance—which can only happen if you defeat Silva, Pyrrhus, and Isolde,” He signed off on a couple more family units, before placing those sheets at the bottom of the stack.

“I have given you all that I can. The path from here on out is one you must carve from the land yourself.”

The three were silent, looking between each other before their expressions hardened into determination. “We won’t let you down,” Neros said.

“Good, good.”

“Well, I don’t see any reason to stick around,” Anthea turned and started to head for the exit of the Meetings Hall. Leof turned to leave as well.

“Do you even know where you’re supposed to be going?”

“Of course I do, I’m an Arborian! My sense of direction is second to none!”

Neros turned to follow, before looking back at Melanthos with an easily seen nervousness. Decision made, he bowed—probably out of reverence, or thanks, or whatever mortals thought he cared about—before taking off after his friends.

“Hey, wait for me!”

“Your Lordship,” Charlot said, just as they left his peripheral. He could sense their lifeforce slowly rising back to the surface, so he turned his attention to the other tasks he could get to now that he was finished ‘entertaining’. “A fresh batch of souls just came in. I’d send them to processing, but few need your direct attention.”

“Oh?” His direct attention was usually not required—but then, times had been more hectic than usual, he had to remind himself. Perhaps someone was trying to stage another uprising. He stood, passing his paperwork to Charlot who added it dutifully to her clipboard before leading him through the vaulted arches Greminian architecture was so fond of. Due to their short stature, he could walk through it like it was a regularly-sized doorway—which meant he had to duck ever so slightly. “Is someone trying to overthrow me again, because I’ve recently found myself unopposed to the idea of apprenticeship.”

“No, no, nothing like that,” She handed him the clipboard of highlighted names, cause of death, locations, and the implications...

Well.

But he would cross that bridge when he came to it. For now, he walked into the Hall of the Dead and up to the two figures holding each other close as if they had never once parted.

It was sad, really. Even after they were officially processed, they’d be unconsciously prone to that position. Their eyes fell on him and he straightened his shoulders, head bowing towards them in greeting.

“King Vasilias, Queen Heilsa, I am Melanthos. I’m sure you have questions.”


End file.
